Lake District
Claire had to do 3 days work in the Lake District this week, so I thought I'd tag along and go up a couple of hills while she was working. The only trouble was that she wasn't coming home until Friday evening, whilst I have to be in work Friday lunchtime, so I was faced with a dilemma. No, not do I have a sickie, but do I go in George the gas guzzler or on my fast but far more economical motorbike that I've only done 400 miles on in the last 2 years and can barely remember how to ride. As it would work out about £40 cheaper, I went on the bike, and have now remembered how to ride it and why I got a motorbike in the first place.
I arrived in Ambleside on Thursday at around 11am, got my stuff out of Claire's car and set off for a easy stroll up Loughrigg Fell which apparently was favoured by Wordsworth (the daffodil poet). I took a detour into town on the way in search of a magnetic clippy thing to hold my drinking tube to the strap of my new eBay bargain rucksack. This was far more difficult than I expected, no doubt partly down to the staff in the shops being unsure exactly what a clippy thing was. Anyway, 4 shops later and I was on my way again with my drinking tube secure yet close at hand.
For a small hill, Loughrigg seemed to have a lot of uphill, and I was pouring with sweat by the time I got up there. You tend to find that with small hills, I suppose it's psychological because you expect them to be really easy. There was a family containing two rather loud and bossy children hogging the summit when I arrived (shouldn't they have been in school?!) so I found a spot out of their way to eat my picnic. The day was quite grey and hazy but it was warm enough to sit and enjoy a leisurely lunch with only one extra layer on, admiring the views.
I ended up walking down with them as we were going the same way. They were visiting from Israel and had only recently started fell walking, which was obvious from the lady's white Reebok Classic trainers (which also happen to be the number one choice of shoe for burglars) and denim skirt (less popular with burglars, probably because they show your knickers when climbing up things). They interrogated me about my work for a bit, offered me a job working for Mossad in Israel (I politely declined, saying I'd rather stay in the relative safety of Staffordshire than be an Israeli spy thank you very much). Then we settled into the relative normality of chatting about the Lake District, although this proved difficult because they didn't seem to have heard of anywhere in the Lakes except Buttermere. I eventually decided it was time to part company when I had to explain what Blencathra was.
We'd come down the side of Loughrigg which overlooks Grasmere and Rydal Water, so I had an easy stroll back along Loughrigg Terrace (Wordsworth's favourite place to take his wife to do romantic things - ooer!), alongside Rydal Water and through the grounds of Rydal Hall which apparently is the Christian centre at the heart of the Lakes.
I arrived back in Ambleside much more tired than I should have been, met up with Claire, and then headed over to Keswick where we were spending the night. When I'd finally got my bike stable on the gravel drive we got changed and went down to Derwent Water for a quick pre-dinner paddle in our kayaks which we'd brought with us (on the roof rack of course).
The water was really low and we almost got stuck on the bottom at one point. I think we normally come to Keswick when there are floods. We had a nice if slightly rushed paddle round (believe it or not, Claire was hungrier than me and keen to get back for dinner!) and headed back for pizza in our favourite pizza place in town
On Friday morning we had a cooked breakfast, and I ate a heroic amount of toast. I'd had to pay a £10 surcharge to make Claire's room double occupancy you see, and because of that felt obliged to eat as much breakfast as possible. Claire headed off to work after breakfast whilst I, now in possession of the wifi code, killed a couple of hours in our room before setting off for my walk. The weather forecast was better for the afternoon so I didn't want to set out too early.
I set off from a little village called Scales at about 11.30am to go up Blencathra. Blencathra is a mountain overlooking Keswick and is home to 22 different routes up (or down) according to Wainwright. I'd decided to go up via Sharp Edge (one of the Lake District's two main ridge scrambles), have a nice picnic at the top whilst admiring the views and taking photos, and then come down via Halls Fell, a route recommended in numerous guide books, magazines, and also by a girl working in one of the shops that didn't sell clippy things.
The way up was, in contrast to yesterday's much smaller hill, much easier than I expected. I've been up via Sharp Edge before when I was a teenager, but all I could really remember about it was Anna's walking boot sole falling off half way up, and mum feigning vertigo so some hunky mountaineers would help her up.
The walk up to the start of Sharp Edge was pretty easy despite it being quite steep, and then the actual scramble up Sharp Edge was far less challenging than I expected. I was rather smug to overtake a group of young men wearing helmet cams who were going very slowly (probably because the were shaking from head to toe).
Going down was, to my surprise, much harder than going up. I don't know why this came as a surprise to me as that is the case with most mountains for me. But this one was particularly tricky as what would have been an easy and fun uphill scramble was a nightmare going down, especially as the rocks were coated with slippery moss in places.
I almost fell off the edge by tripping over my own walking pole, and then, thoroughly shaken up by that, slipped on some of the slippery moss and broke my fall with my hand before crashing down in a very unladylike manner on my bum. Fortunately I don't think anyone saw. I spent a few minutes feeling sorry for myself and examining my hand on a nearby rock, before continuing much more carefully and without using my left hand because it was hurting and dripping blood. I made it down without any further issues, despite it being constantly on my mind that "these things happen in threes". Much to my annoyance, the cloud lifted on my way down but I didn't fancy going back up again.
It is actually the second time I've tripped over my own walking pole on a mountain before subsequently slipping over again in my shaken up disorientated state (see "Wet pants and messy hair" - 19th October 2013. These blogs are handy for reliving previous accidents). I'm beginning to question the usefulness of the poles. They're supposed to help my knees, but I think they're probably counter effective, and could have easily caused a knee injury today if I hadn't landed on another body part instead. I think I might replace them in my hiking inventory with a first aid kit and an extra cake.
After a trip into Keswick for more food and some plasters I went back to the B&B, packed my bag, ate my chicken fajita wrap, and awaited Claire's arrival for some sympathy before I left. When I'd had my fill of sympathy (I'm still unsure whether the suggestion that it might be broken was genuine or sarcastic), I got back on my bike to see if I could still work the clutch. Fortunately I could, and I'm now back home in bed with a slightly purple hand and my penguin hot water bottle (in June!).
For any concerned readers (i.e. Mum), I am certain there are no broken bones, but will go straight to A&E if I change my mind, and the bits about almost falling off and dripping blood were exaggerated a tiny bit. I mean, it only takes a couple of drips to count as dripping doesn't it?
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